It Happens Every Spring
by archmagus
Summary: One Shot Maybe there are other reasons for Magneto's and Xavier's outlooks on life. Maybe that reason is...baseball? Magneto POV


All this really is is an attempt to add a new twist the complex relationship between Magneto and Xavier. After all you have to wonder just what else they talk about besides mutant/human relations.

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            I've always been a pessimist. 

            To everyone in my life I've been the gloomy spoilsport, the one who says how things really will turn out, not how we want them to.

            I am a pessimist. And Charles is the optimist.

            That is the course of our relationship. He believes matters will work out in the end. I don't. I never have. He always will.

            Secretly though, we are much different. When no one is watching he is the one who is pessimistic and I am the hopeful one. 

            I've dwelled on this change, this personality quirk we each have, and I could only find one answer. A simple answer, simpler than anyone would ever expect.

            That is getting ahead of myself. I was talking about my pessimism. As I've said I've always been one. But I'm much worse now than I was before. Before my life changed forever.

            No, I am not talking about usual suspects. Not my being a mutant. Not my experience in the Holocaust, although God knows both were enough to make me a bitter man. No, I saw some ray of hope in both. I survived the horror that claimed countless others, that claimed my family. I had been able to endure what others couldn't. It's not a comforting thought but anything will do to purge my mind of those memories. When I found out that I was a mutant I was overjoyed. I thought that these gifts were why I had been spared, why the grace of whatever power that rules this world had been granted to me. 

            No, my pessimism stems from neither affair. It all stems from something else. It stems from when I first came to America, shortly after the war. The year was 1949 and I had come to a new land. 

            Like all the immigrants that came over on the boats I had difficulty fitting in to this new place, this new country. I was unable to fit in no matter how hard I tried. I stood out – the vagabond Jew. No one wanted anything to do with me. 

            In spring however, I found there was something that united the people, regardless of their origins. Everywhere I went people were talking about the same thing. 

Baseball. 

            I was convinced immediately that if I was to fit in to my new home then I must adapt to the culture. That meant I needed to become a baseball fan. 

            I didn't understand the game at first. I spent my time off work listening to the radio, or even going to the park if I had enough time. I learned the game, the nuisances, and the rules. It was intriguing. But in order to adapt to the culture fully, I had to choose a team to be mine – to root for through thick and thin. 

            I initially tried to root for the team I saw and heard the most about: the Yankees. No matter how hard I tried I was unable to take them on as my team. There was something about them that was unsettling for me, something I couldn't place my finger on for a long time. I've figured it out since then. It was the uniforms. The pinstripes, the legendary pinstripes of the Bronx, were too close to my past. They brought up memories of the camps, of the horrors I had witnessed. 

            I found myself secretly hoping that the stripes would lose, that they would be defeated. I saw them as the jailors of my past, and I could only hope then, as I did when I wore the stripes, that they would be torn and destroyed. 

            I gradually began to dislike the Yankees, through no fault of their own. I bitterly watched as they continuously won year after year. I grew to hate those pinstripes and those in them. 

            Despite the fact I had grown used to baseball I still had no team of my own. That was until a co-worker suggested one for me. He was from Rhode Island and a baseball fan. He was passionate about his team. They were close to New York so I could follow them closely. But most importantly they hated the Yankees, almost as much as I did.

            That day I became a Red Sox fan. 

            Over the years I rooted for them, regardless of their place in the standings. I spent a summer in Boston, and went to the park as often as I could.

            I've watched in delight as they've triumphed. I've watched in horror as they've blown it. I've watched in anger as they've fallen to their archenemies.

            For over fifty years I've watched them and rooted for them. And I will continue to do so.

            Back to my original point. I've learned over the years, no matter how much I want to believe, no matter how close they come, no matter how tempted I am to believe that this is the year, they blow it. They always have. They always will. I hold no illusions about that anymore. The day I lose my skepticism is the day they win it all. I'm beginning to believe that even I won't live long enough to see that. 

            Of course no matter what side of the fence I'm on, Charles is always on the other. He enjoys baseball season because he is the optimist. Because he is the Yankee fan. Everything has gone right for him, always has. He sees no reason to doubt what he believes because luck has always affirmed them. 

            Oh how I hate it! How he grins smugly at me when they win! Damn it all! There are times when I would give up everything, my dreams of mutant superiority, my freedom, my fortunes, absolutely everything to just beat them once and wipe that smirk of Charles' face. 

            I know that that won't happen. Things will go as they always have. Charles will win and I will lose. The Red Sox will lose and the Yankees will win. The vicious cycle will continue yet again.

            But deep down I hope that this is the year. And deep down I know Charles fears this to be true.

***

            "Erik? Are you feeling alright?" Charles asks me from his seat. I blink rapidly, jarred from my thoughts and turn to look at my old friend. Concern is pasted across his face. I attempt a smile.

            "Of course Charles. Just lost in memories." He nods with a smirk.

            "Opening Day has that effect on us all," he says as he folds his hands across his lap. I notice the ridiculous object on his hand.

            "Charles, how many times have I asked you to not bring that to the games?" I snap irritably. It's bad enough to be going to a game with him but must he always insist on bringing the foam hand? 

            "I'll have you know that I didn't bring this hand. I purchased it after we got here. Its tradition that I have one."

            "You don't see me waving around one of those ridiculous things do you?"

            "No, but I do believe you took a Rally Monkey when we were at the Series a few years ago."

            "How many times must I tell you that it was for Wanda?"

            "Of course Erik. For Wanda." I frown at my friend and place my cap on top of my head. Charles may have his dumb finger but I have my hat. That's tradition. Charles grins at me as the roar comes over the stadium as the players take the field. 

            "Another year. Ready to see the Yankees win it all again?" He asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes. I grin despite myself at this old game of ours.

            "I think not Charles. I know it. This year is _the year_." 

            "We'll just have to see about that Erik."

            "That we will Charles. That we will."

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Archmagus would like to take this opportunity to express his feelings that he, like Magneto, is a huge Red Sox fan. And like Magneto he believes that this year maybe be the year. But he isn't willing to get his hopes up just yet. That's why the game is played. And in the case of the Red Sox, ultimately, lost. 

Let him know what you think about this story or baseball in general by leaving a review. 

And thanks to Spiffythefaery for betaing the story. And so everyone knows she is a Yankees fan. And will never be allowed to wear a foam finger in Archmagus' presence.


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